What's Left of Me (Finally Unbroken Book 2) Read Free

ripped out. But, I’m going to tell you something else. At the same time the pain is there, I can feel the healing that’s taking place too. Who knows, maybe in another eighteen months it’ll feel easier telling my story. What I do know is that I have to keep trying, and maybe I’ll always be trying. I won’t ever stop, though. Because I knew a little boy, one that would’ve loved to live his life, but had it taken away too soon. What am I showing him if I waste my existence? I’m saying it doesn’t matter. The he didn’t matter. After all, if I don’t care about my own survival, then why would I care about any of it? I might as well be telling him that it doesn’t matter that he died because life isn’t worth living. Personally, I want to know, that if he’s looking down at me he’d be proud. Not ashamed.”
    I finish the introduction to my bereavement class and take a few moments, for myself and for everyone else, to hopefully allow my words to sink in. Then, slowly, I raise my head and look at each of them, one by one. Some are crying, some remain impassive. The one thing they have in common is the pain in all their eyes. Then, the last person makes me jolt.
    Ruben Asher.
    It’s a face I haven’t seen for eighteen months. He’s the reason I changed these meetings. He’s the one I couldn’t reach. And he’s staring at me like he finally wants me to save him.



Chapter Two

     
    I watch her walking back and forth. Can’t take my damn eyes off her. When I last saw Laurie all those months ago, she was a different person. Confident, but completely closed off. I never saw her suffering, she kept it hidden well. Now she’s raw. I’m not surprised I didn’t see it before. Although I didn’t care to look back then, only coming to the bereavement group because Anabel strong-armed me into it, saying some shit about it being what Amanda would want. I didn’t want to know about Laurie’s pain. Fuck, I didn’t care about my own pain. Using alcohol to keep me numb for the most part, but still wanting to feel the torment. No. Needing to feel it. Figuring, if Amanda can be dead then I should, at least, be able to hold onto the agony of her loss. I didn’t want to forget. The pain helped me to always remember.
    Now, watching Laurie, it’s the first time I’ve ever really seen her. Before, in the other group I attended, she kept it hidden well by wearing a mask. I wasn’t looking too hard, consumed in my own grief, but even so I could still see that she was hiding behind it. Now she’s ripped wide open, it’s like the loss is fresh. And I just can’t seem to look away.
    It’s been five years since I lost Amanda. I have good days and bad days. I’m still fighting every damn day, just to live a little. I spiraled, and was completely out of control, nearly killing myself in the process. Danny and Anabel stepped in, making me go to rehab. It was the best thing they could have ever done for me, but I hated them for it. Since coming out of rehab, I’ve been to a few meetings. I started with the alcoholics group. Getting clean from the alcohol was something that I desperately needed. But I can’t lie and say there aren’t days I just want to reach for the bottle. Still, I’m working on it. Having come out on this side, I’m only just now starting to see clearly. I wish Amanda were still alive. It constantly hurts, but I don’t feel like I’m going to drown all of the time. Sometimes, though… sometimes I could use a fucking motorboat to pull me out from the all-consuming waves that engulf me.
    “So, I’m going to go around the group. If you could give your names, I’d appreciate it. If you want to add a bit about yourself, or your loss, then please do,” Laurie tells us all. She moves, sitting in the empty chair, completing the circle and she looks to her left. The girl who sits there can’t be more than twenty-two.
    “H-Hi, I’m Shana. I’m twenty-three. Three months ago I lost my mom.” She